


Hungry and Feral

by LiliesandSin



Category: Umbrella Academy
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Gen, Good Sibling Vanya Hargreeves, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Poverty, Protective Vanya Hargreeves, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiliesandSin/pseuds/LiliesandSin
Summary: Klaus and Vanya spend Christmas Eve together
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kierkegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/gifts).



Vanya was walking.

She would be driving; would normally be driving, except that her car broke down two days ago. She couldn’t afford to have it fixed.

Her groceries were pitifully plain. She had rice. She had top ramen. She had some fruit. A small thing of eggs. There wasn’t much she could buy for only ten dollars, and she had to make the groceries last for the next four days.

She wasn’t sure how she’d make it through the week. She’d probably eat for three days, and then on the fourth day, let herself starve a little.

*It’s not unhealthy,* she told herself. *I’m just fasting.* But her heart sank thinking about it. This happened all the time; her hours at the gas station would be cut, and she would be hungry for a few weeks. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, either she wasn’t very strong, or talented, and she didn’t have any special abilities. Upwards mobility was out of her reach.

She passed by an alleyway. There was a low groan from the shadows; she glanced at the huddled shape briefly. He was curled up into himself, holding a blanket around him. He was shivering visibly.

 _At least I’m not him_. She looked away, then stopped and looked back.

She knew that man.

“Klaus?” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “Is that you?”

Klaus didn’t reply. She put her bags on the ground and approached him slowly, arms folded against the cold. “Klaus? Are you alright?”

He wasn’t replying. She crouched down uncertainly. She didn’t want to touch him- what if he wanted to be left alone?- But he was her brother, and she couldn’t just let him lie here.

She put a hand on his shoulder.

His eyes opened. He looked up at her, squinting like the light was painful. “…You don’t say.”

“What’s happened to you?” Vanya whispered.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Klaus pushed himself up against the wall of the building slowly, like it hurt. “Hasn’t our loving father told you? I’m a ruffian now, dear sister.”

Vanya closed her eyes. Seeing him was painful. A reminder of everything she was afraid of. Homelessness. Poverty. Starvation.

“Do you have someplace you can go?” She asked quietly.

Klaus laughed. It was a jagged thing, and it made her wince. “This *is* the place I can go, Vanya. Right here is just fine.”

 _Maybe I should leave_. Luther, she thought, would make that disgusted look he always did when Klaus was around. He’d tell her to leave him alone. That he’d made his own choices. He’d let Klaus stay here, in the cold, and say it was the right thing to do.

 _I don’t know what the right thing to do is._ She hated the uncertainty that haunted her. How she never felt qualified enough to make her own decisions.

_Allison would be kind._

_I can be kind._

“Do you want to come with me?” She asked. “You can stay in my apartment, if you want. For a night or two.”

Klaus looked at her a moment. She wondered if she’d overstepped somehow. _He must hate me for not letting him stay longer_. She couldn’t, though. Her landlords would never let her. Not if they knew.

“Why?” He asked. His voice was rough. “Why, Vanya?”

She hesitated. “It’s Christmas, Klaus.”

Klaus’s lips stiffened threateningly for a moment. Then he sighed. “Okay, Vanya.” He lifted his arms up to her. “Help me up?”

*

He was cold.

Even sitting in Vanya’s apartment, right next to the heater, he couldn’t seem to be warmed up. Vanya puttered around the place, putting away her groceries, readjusting the furniture. She didn’t have much, he noticed; a carton for a chair, a mattress on the floor, a table in the corner. The only thing of value she seemed to have was a violin, carefully resting in the corner.

“You’re not much better off than me, huh?” He coughed. His breath fogged in the air in front of him. “Figures.”

“I’m sorry.” Vanya opened a cabinet. “I’m sorry. I have a blanket.”

“So do I.” He meant it to come out teasingly. Vanya looked a hurt; she closed the cabinet. He sighed. “I mean, I’ll take the blanket. Mine’s gotten a bit…” he poked a finger through a hole. “Threadbare.”

Vanya quietly reopened the cabinet. She pulled out a blanket, shook it out, and handed it over to him. He took it and wrapped it around himself as well as he could with his numb fingers.

He was still cold. He wondered if he’d ever be warm again. Maybe he’d finally broken; maybe he would be cold for the rest of his life.

“Do you have a bath?” He asked quietly.

“I do.” Vanya pointed across the room. “There aren’t any clean towels. I can’t afford to wash them yet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just shake myself dry.” He was joking. Vanya didn’t smile.

 _She’s more of a downer than *I* am._ He stood, and made his way to the bathroom.

Behind him, Vanya set water to boil.

*

His arms and legs itched badly under the hot water; his fingers and toes felt that strange, familiar iciness that warming up gave them. But once he got past that, for a moment, he was blissfully, happily _warm_. The only thing in the shower was a bar of soap, and he used it to scrub his arms, his legs, his face, his hair. It felt so good, so wonderful; for a moment, he forgot his hunger pangs, how his body was shaking, how much he desperately needed another _hit_.

The feeling didn’t last long. The hot water ran out suddenly, and he was hit with a wave of cold. He laughed aloud. _It figures, doesn’t it? This is exactly what I get for thinking I could be comfortable._

He finished washing the last of the soap suds away before turning the water off.

*

By the time Klaus came out, damp and clammy, Vanya was standing over the stove. She was stirring noodles in a pot; there were a couple empty top ramen wrappers sitting to the side. She didn’t look up when he stepped next to her.

Klaus looked down at the pot, and then up at Vanya. His heart twisted.

“Vanya,” he said. He put a hand on hers. “I have a little money.” Money that he’d been planning on using on other things. Better things. Things that helped him escape more than food did.

“If you want,” she said quietly. She dropped the spoon to her side; she was still staring into the pot. “If you don’t want this.”

“This?” Klaus looked down at the pot. “It’s more than I’ve eaten in days, Vanya. I should be _thanking_ you. You’re so _responsible_.” He laughed a little.

Vanya looked at him. “If you have money, why aren’t you eating?”

Klaus dropped his hand from hers. “Because I have vices, Vanya; terrible, terrible vices. Vices that leave me frozen on the street, watching my fingers turn blue and black from frostbite.” He looked at a hand. “I wonder which one I’ll lose first.”

Vanya didn’t reply. Klaus sighed. “I have a twenty. I’ll go to McDonalds. We can get a bunch of those dollar burgers. We can fill up on cheap meat.”

“We should use that money on something more substantial,” Vanya said quietly. “We can’t waste it.”

“Didn’t you just say it was Christmas, Vanya dear?” Klaus put an arm around her shoulders. “And what does it matter? Money comes and money goes, but it’s always good to celebrate.”

Vanya turned the heat off for the noodles. “It’s your money.”

Klaus laughed. “It’s not, though. I stole it, because unlike you, I’m _not_ responsible.” He dropped his arm from her and turned away before he could see her react. “I’ll be back, Vanya.”

“Alright.” Her voice sounded a little lost.

*

Despite her feelings about wasting money- McDonald’s, as cheap as it was, wouldn’t last more than a night- Vanya was glad to see the food. She hadn’t eaten something that actually tasted good in… _in weeks._

_God, it’s been so long._

When Klaus came back, he was shivering, and was holding three bags of food. It smelled incredible. He moved to put the bags on a table.

“Wait. Wait.” Vanya walked over to the cabinets. She pulled out plates, and glasses, and a tablecloth; she brought them over to the table and set them down. “We should celebrate properly.”

Klaus snickered. “How fancy. Chipped plates and water. Our father would be so proud.”

Vanya sighed. “Klaus.”

“How do you think Luther’s eating?” Klaus asked. He raised his eyebrows. “Or Allison? I bet they have trees. Or _a_ tree, knowing their proclivities-“

“Klaus, _enough_.” Vanya put the tablecloth over the table. She set the plates down. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?” Klaus asked. “Don’t you ever think it’s a bit unfair that we live like this, Vanya? That our other siblings were given everything? Don’t you think-“

“It’s _okay_ , Klaus.” Vanya took the bags from him and started dividing the food between the plates.

“Is it?” Klaus asked. “Or have you just gotten used to being second-rate?”

Vanya looked down at her plate. “What’s the point of trying, Klaus?” She couldn’t keep the exhaustion from her voice. “Of complaining? Things are as they are. You should sit,” she added.

“Don’t I have reason to complain?” Klaus asked. He sat down heavily. “I mean, maybe you wouldn’t understand, as _privileged_ as you are-“ his voice twisted, like he was holding back laughter- “but it seems a _touch_ unfair.”

Vanya didn't answer.


	2. Chapter 2

They ate quietly.

Vanya shivered a little. The apartment was cold. She couldn’t afford heat- of course she couldn’t afford heat. She couldn’t afford anything.

Maybe Klaus was right. Maybe there was something unfair about all this. Why weren’t they given the support of their siblings?

_Our father never believed in me._

She ate two of the burgers. She ate some fries. It was nice, she admitted to herself, not to be eating top ramen. To eat and not be hungry afterwards.

Klaus ate the rest; he ate quickly, practically stuffing the food into his mouth; five burgers, two things of fries, a pie.

 _I don’t think he’s been eating recently._ A stab of pity hit her. _He’s right. He really has had it hard._

“Do you remember living in father’s house?” she asked. She looked outside. It was snowing again; big, heavy, wet flakes that would make going to work tomorrow hard. “Do you remember how warm it was?”

“I remember the crypt.” Klaus looked up from his burger. “I remember how cold _that_ was.”

Vanya wanted to look away. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold.

“Klaus,” Vanya said quietly. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help you.” She stood, picking up her plate.

“ _Why_?” Klaus said. “To make yourself feel a bit better? To pretend at charity? Because you _pitied_ me?” He took another bite of his burger.

“Because you’re my elder brother,” Vanya said. She put her plate in the sink. She turned around to face him. “And I love you.”

Klaus’s eyes narrowed momentarily, like he was analyzing her. Then they softened. “Is that really all, Vanya? You don’t want anything from me?”

“I don’t know what else it could be,” Vanya said. “You don’t have anything I want.”

Klaus sighed. He put his burger down. “I remember the house,” he said begrudgingly. “I remember that he used to serve us oatmeal for breakfast. He had so much money- so much power and influence- and yet, he couldn’t be bothered to feed us good food.”

“There’s nothing wrong with oatmeal,” Vanya said.

“There’s something wrong with treating your children differently than one another,” Klaus said. “But then again, I wasn’t a particularly easy child to raise.”

The ghost of a memory brushed Vanya; a woman’s scream. She shivered. “I don’t suppose I was either,” she said. “I wasn’t anything special.”

Klaus leaned. “Do you know what I _do_ remember?” He asked. “I remember that after the nights in the crypt, Allison would find me. She’d sneak into my room, and she’d hold me.”

Vanya nodded quietly. “Allison was kind,” she said. “She always told me I had more to me than father gave me credit for.” She looked down at her feet. “I miss her.”

“Me too,” Klaus said quietly. He stood and picked up his plate. “Do you remember that one Christmas, Vanya? When we made paper snowflakes with her, and put them up around the house? We decorated so much.”

“And how angry father was?” Vanya nodded. “He made us take them all down as soon as he saw them.”

Klaus put his plate in the sink. “What a loving father he was,” he said.

Vanya put a hand on his. “He’s not here,” she said quietly. “And this isn’t his apartment.”

“It isn’t, is it?” Klaus looked thoughtful. “Do you have any paper, by chance, Vanya?”

“Yes. Scissors and tape, too.” Vanya smiled a little. “I’ll go get them.”

*

They worked quietly, using old newspapers and magazines and papers from Vanya’s drawers. By the time they were done, there were snowflakes across the walls, hanging from the ceiling, and stuck to the door. Vanya had gotten some candles out; they cast a gentle golden light over the room of her apartment, making everything look… gentle.

“It looks nice.” Vanya smiled. “Better than it before.”

“Without wanting to sound cruel, anything would look better than before.” Klaus put an arm around Vanya’s shoulders. Vanya leaned into him. “You deserve better, Vanya.”

“So do you,” she said quietly. “Merry Christmas, Klaus.”

*

They went to bed after that. Vanya took several old blankets and spread them on an air mattress for Klaus in her bedroom; she gave him some of her clothes to sleep in. He went to sleep quickly; or, at least, he seemed to.

Vanya couldn’t. She lay in bed for what felt like hours, thinking about that evening. She’d spent so much time alone, hiding herself away from the world. It had been years since she’d spent so much time with someone.

It wasn’t like she had the personality to make friends. Klaus might have fared worse than her, but he’d always seemed so connected. He could be so charming and charismatic when he wanted to be; he had such a big social life when they were children.

 _I’m glad he was here tonight_. She looked up at the ceiling, hand across her belly. _I’m glad that I’m not alone._


End file.
